Sweetest of Words
by Redluna
Summary: Arthur is a single father with a bakery. Eames is the man who just bought the diner across the street.
1. Chapter 1

**Word Count: **2,875

* * *

><p>No one was ever able to guess Arthur's job. Most people would take in the sharp cut of his suits, the slicked back hair, and their minds would jump towards some high paying career, like a lawyer. There had even been one memorable occasion where he had been cornered by a flock of girls who were <em>convinced<em> he was a fashion designer.

It was always the little details that went unnoticed, however. Like the dusting of flour that he hadn't been able to wash off from his cuffs yet. Or that he wasn't checking stocks on his phone, but a new recipe that he wanted to experiment with.

So whenever people caught sight of him entering Penrose Bakery, they imagined that he was just stopping in to grab something to eat before continuing on with his no doubt busy schedule.

They never realized that he actually _owned_ the bakery.

* * *

><p>Arthur was just about to finish the piping work on a cake when the door to the back room was thrown open with enough force that it banged against the wall. It was fortunate that his instinctual reaction had been to jerk the pastry bag back or else his hard work would have been ruined. He turned towards the doorway, not surprised in the least to see Ariadne there. "Ariadne, you're suppose to—"<p>

"Enter the kitchen at a reasonable pace," Ariadne cut over him, "unless it's an emergency."

"And is it an emergency?" Arthur asked.

"Well, not _exactly_," Ariadne said, "but it's still important!"

Arthur set the pastry bag down on the table with a sigh. He was more annoyed by the work being left unfinished than her, though. He had long since grown use to her antics and, though he would never admit it, he was fond of them. "What is it this time?" he said.

"Do you remember that place that set up across the street? The diner?" Ariadne barreled on without waiting for an answer. "Today is its opening day!"

"I know," Arthur said. He had seen the banner announcing as much hung over the storefront when he had gone out to open up shop that morning. He hadn't been able to stare at it for long, though, without his eyes starting to hurt. The words scrawled across the long sheet of paper had been applied with a garish shade of orange. The huge quantity of balloons tied around it hadn't been much better, all being bright colors that turned even more glaring when hit directly by the sun. "Has it been doing well then?"

"Sure has," Ariadne replied. "People have been in and out of there all day. And a good number of them decided to head over here after."

Arthur's brow furrowed monetarily. He didn't think he had heard a rush, but then he had been lost in work for most of the day. "Do you need another set of hands out front?" he asked.

"Nope," Ariadne said, "Tessa's been helping me." Arthur didn't realize he was moving forward until she pointed in his direction with a stern look. "Oh, no you don't. She's been doing perfectly fine. There's no need for you to go all super protective dad."

"She's probably been eating all the samples," Arthur said. His gaze lingered on the hint at the corner of Ariadne's mouth. "And you too apparently."

Ariadne scrubbed furiously at her mouth until it was completely clean. "It's not our fault you make them so tasty!" she said. "Besides, we managed to get more into the box than our mouths. You should be proud."

Arthur shook his head with an amused huff. "Oh, of course." Then the rest of her words caught up with him. "Wait, why are you putting samples into a box? If we have a delivery order then it should be made fresh. I'm not too busy for it."

"It's not a delivery order," Ariadne said. Then she paused for a moment, pursing her lips. "Well, not exactly. I mean, it is being delivered, but it hasn't been called in so we can't really expect the person to _pay_ for it. That's just not being fair."

Arthur raised a single brow. "Right," he said, slowly, "because that makes perfect sense."

Ariadne puffed out her cheeks, looking frustrated, although it was probably more aimed at herself than him. "It's for the people that run the diner," she said, "as a sort of 'welcome to the neighborhood' type of thing."

"You didn't bother doing that with the Indian restaurant that was there before," Arthur pointed out.

Ariadne scrunched up her nose, shivering like something unpleasant had slid down her spine. "That's because it was _Nash_," she said, "and we were all just waiting for him to leave."

"True," Arthur conceded. "But there's something more to this. I can tell." He knew he had been right when Ariadne's eyes darted away from his.

"It looks like a family bought it," she said. "They're living right above the place, like how we do with the bakery. It looks like it's just a single dad, though." Her gaze shifted back over to him. "With a daughter."

Arthur _really_ should have seen this coming. "I am not going to force my daughter into making friends, Ari," he groaned.

"You won't be _forcing_ her into anything!" Ariadne shot back. "You'll just be giving her the chance to make a real friend. Not those kids that fawn all over her at school because of her grandfather. She's been avoiding them since summer vacation started."

It was an argument that they had had countless times before. The problem hadn't really begun to form until Tessa got older, heading into her older years of junior high. It was then that it became obvious how difficult it was for her to connect with people her own age.

Their family had always been a small one. It had started out with him and Chelsea living with their daughter in the space above the bakery that her father had given them for a wedding present. There had been five blissful years spent turning the bakery into a successful business and watching his family thrive. It was within the second half of that fifth year, however, that Chelsea first showed signs of being sick and he had to explain to his daughter what words like "cancer" and "inoperable" meant.

Chelsea had held out for as long as she could, determined not to go down without a fight, but it was stage four cancer. Eventually, the treatments no longer had any effect and all that was left to do was sit and wait for the worst to happen. And after it did Arthur was left by himself with a five-year-old daughter.

It was then that Ariadne had joined their family. She had been one of the friends he had made in college and had remained close to him ever since. She had been in that long line of mourners at the service, all coming forward to shake his hand and offer condolences. But she had lunged herself into his arms instead, clutching him tight before letting go to scoop Tessa up into her arms. He would never forget how fierce her eyes had looked then, even when they were full of tears.

"I'm coming to live with you," she had said. And that had been that, really.

He had given her a job in the bakery as his assistant, which mostly meant that she handled the communications part of the business when he was too busy too. She had even been able to fill the hole that the lose of her mother had left in Tessa's life. And if some people made the mistake that they were a couple, well, Arthur hadn't been ready to get back into the field at that point anyway.

Arthur had never seen any problem with how close-knit their family was. It meant that he didn't have to be like all the other parents who would complain about how their children were rebelling or hiding things from them. Besides, she had a whole group of students that seemed to be flocking around her whenever he came to pick her up. She seemed to have plenty of friends at school, anyway.

He should have known better, looking back on it, but he hadn't seen it. Not until he had actually asked his daughter after the friends that she never seemed to see out of school. Tessa had just squirmed in her seat before informing her that they weren't really her friends just people she talked to in school.

"They wouldn't even bother with me," she had mumbled "if they didn't know about Grandpa."

And that had been what had done it for Arthur. He was a father and he was determined to be a good one. He was suppose to be there for his daughter, to solve any of the problems that occurred in her life. But this one had left him stumped and he had hated the feeling of not being able to do anything.

"I appreciate what your trying to do," Arthur said, "but I just don't think it's fair to her. You know how awkward she feels around strangers."

"Of course I do," Ariadne said, "that's why I gave her something to break the ice with." She took a deep breath. "Look, Arthur, just give this a chance, okay? The worst that can happen is that she doesn't hit it off with the other girl."

Arthur was about to give voice to all the much worse scenarios that were running through his head when the door to the back room was pushed open again. He knew who it had to be even before his daughter poked her head around the door.

Tessa smiled when her eyes landed on him. "Hey Dad," she said. "Did Ariadne tell you about what we've been doing?"

Ariadne spoke up before Arthur could respond. "Yes, I have. Are you all finished with it then?"

"Yep." Tessa held out a white box that was kept fastened shut by the string tied around it. "I just wanted to check in before I headed off to deliver it."

"Are you really okay with going over there all by yourself?" Arthur asked.

If Tessa was nervous at all then he couldn't detect it in the grin that she flashed him. "I'll be fine, Dad, really," she said. "It's starting to wind down over there and Ariadne said that people seem nice."

"Did she now?" Arthur shot a look at Ariadne who fixed him with her most innocent look. He resisted the urge to scowl at her, turning back towards his daughter instead. "Alright, just…be careful." He didn't doubt that Tessa could sense all the different meanings encased in those two words based on how her face softened for a moment.

"I will, Dad," she promised. "And I'll be back soon." Then she left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Arthur let himself deflate then, turning to face Ariadne, who looked far too smug. He shook his head as he reached out to pick up his pastry bag again. "You better be right about this," he muttered.

* * *

><p>Eames took a step back from the grill, rubbing his hands across his apron in attempt to get rid of some of the grease. For the first time that day, he didn't have any orders to make up. The opening day had gone even better than he had expected. The stream of people coming into the diner had seemed never ending. At least not until now when there was finally a lull and he planned on using that time to relax for just a little bit.<p>

So, of course, Yusuf chose that time to appear cut out space in the wall between kitchen and the front area.

Eames let out a sigh when he saw him. "Another order, Yusuf?" he asked. "I thought you told me it was safe to take a break."

"Well, it's not an order," Yusuf said, "so technically I was telling the truth." He jerked his thumb back behind him. "There's someone here to see you."

Eames' eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Me?" he echoed. He hadn't even been in the city for a week yet. Who could possibly want to see him?

"Yes, you," Yusuf said. "Although she didn't ask for you by name; just said she wanted to see the person who owned this place." He was shaking his head before Eames could even open his mouth to ask the question. "And, no, she isn't here to complain about the food. It's something much more pleasant than that."

"Is it now?" Interest officially piqued, Eames moved out of the kitchen to join Yusuf behind the counter. "So, what is it then?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure he's talking about me."

Eames turned towards the voice to find himself face to face with a girl on the other side of the counter. She was young, no more than eleven years old at the most, and quite a pretty little thing in a sweet sort of way. His eyes were drawn, however, to the box she was carrying. "Hello," he said, "can I help you?"

The girl offered him a small smile. "Yes," she said, "I'm Tessa Moss. My family owns the bakery across the street."

Eames had noticed the place across the street when they were moving in. It was a pleasant, if pristine, looking white building. The sign that hung over the window had proclaimed it to be Penrose Bakery in elegant red words. "I'm Eames." He reached across the counter to offer his hand out to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

If Tessa found it odd that he didn't give a first name she didn't remark on it. Instead she took one hand away from the box in order to shake his hand. She had a surprisingly firm grip for someone who looked so innocent. "Likewise, Mr. Eames," she said.

"May I ask what you've brought with you?" Eames asked as he took his hand back.

"Oh!" Tessa said. "It's for you, actually." She held out the box to him. "It's full of samples from the shop. We weren't sure what you all liked so we filled it with all sorts of things. Consider it a 'welcome to neighborhood' gift."

"Oh, you are a sweetheart," Eames said. He couldn't resist a grin at the faint blush that brought to the girl's cheeks. He swatted Yusuf's hands out of the way before the man could grab the box. "If you want you can sit down and share them with my girl while I fix you both something non-sugary to fill your bellies with. On the house, of course."

When Tessa seemed confused, Yusuf shot her a kindly look. "He's talking about his daughter," he said. "She's about a year older than you." He leaned over to tap the shoulder of a girl sitting nearby on what of the stools at the counter. "Hey, Candace, there's someone you need to meet."

Candace spun around on her stool, her dark curls bouncing across her shoulders. Eames noticed the hint of wariness in her eyes, even if no one else did. His daughter had never been very good with people, preferring to live in her own world most of the time. She was the exact opposite of him in that regard, but he wouldn't have her any other way.

Tessa seemed just as nervous, however. "Hi," she muttered. Then she caught sight of Candace's shirt and her whole demeanor seemed to change. "Is that a Slytherin shirt?"

Candace blinked for a moment before looking down at her shirt. "Um, yeah, it is," she replied.

"That's so cool!" Tessa blurted out. "I'm not really sure what house I'm in. Ariadne says I'm more Hufflepuff, but my dad _insists_ I'm Ravenclaw. So he got me a Ravenclaw shirt for my birthday and she retaliated by knitting me a Hufflepuff scarf for Christmas."

Candace looked back up at the other girl with an awed expression. "You have an actual _scarf_?" she said. "That's so cool!"

"Really?" Tessa said.

"Definitely," Candace replied firmly.

Tessa lowered her gaze, but now before Eames saw the flush of pleasure there. "My dad actually runs the bakery across the street and I brought over some samples for you guys. Do you want to try some?"

Eames felt a jolt of surprise as he saw that his daughter was actually _smiling_.

"That sounds great." Candace patted the stool next to her. "We should eat as much as we can before my dad tries to make us eat something healthy." She stuck out her tongue at the last word.

Tessa giggled, plopping down on the stool before setting the box on the counter and starting to undo the string that held it closed.

Yusuf looked over at Eames with raised eyebrows. "I don't think I've ever seen her take that quickly to someone before," he said.

"Neither have I," Eames said. "I think it's a good sign, though." He had been worried that the trip overseas would make it even harder for his daughter to find friends.

He was glad to have been proven wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Nope, I haven't abandoned this story at all. It just took far too long for the ideas to properly form themselves.**

**Word Count: **3,049

* * *

><p>Arthur was baffled by how much his daughter seemed to change over the next week. Even when she was a child it was apparent that Tessa had inherited the bulk of her personality from him. She was a natural introvert, able to find forms of entertainment that often didn't involve social interaction. She could spend the whole day curled up on one of the stools behind the front counter with a book or upstairs doing whatever it was kids her age did on the computer.<p>

She wasn't completely anti-social (Ariadne had seen to that) just self-conscious. She never seemed fully comfortable around new people, always judging their reactions to her, unable to tell if she was being well received or not. She seemed in constant fear of sticking her foot in her mouth.

But now it was as if everything he knew about his daughter had reversed itself.

Tessa would dash out to the diner almost as soon as she was out of bed. Sometimes he managed to get her to stop for breakfast before she went out, but more often than not she would tell him not to go through the trouble. There always seemed to be a free meal waiting for her at the diner, after all.

Arthur was quite certain that she would spend nearly all her time over there if she could. And while he was overjoyed that she had managed to make a friend, he still wanted to spend time with her. So he made sure that she knew to be home by five as the shop was closing up and it was nearly time for dinner.

It was then, with all of them gathered around the table, that Ariadne would ask Tessa how her day went. And all the stories would come pouring forth after that.

The tales nearly always centered around things she had gotten up to with Candace, of course. Yet other people from the diner had a way of sneaking in too.

There was Yusuf, who, like Ariadne with the bakery, dealt with the front of house. The steady flow of traffic coming into the place usually kept him busy, but he always managed to find time for the girls somehow. He would often use them to test out drinks, from juices to coffees, that he had created all on his own. It either resulted in the girl's draining their whole cups or them shoving whatever it was back after the first sip.

On one very notable occasion, Candace had not even managed half a sip before throwing the mug down on the ground and shrinking away in horror. Arthur was just grateful that she had been able to convince his daughter that her reaction didn't make the substance somehow interesting and therefore drinkable.

The regulars at the diner—of which there were a great deal of now—would occasionally make it into the stories as well, if they had done something of particular interest.

But most of the time, if his daughter's tales weren't centered around her new friend than it would be the owner of the diner himself that was featured the most.

Eames, that was the man's name, and his daughter gave every sign of flat out adoring him. Arthur had been worried at first that she had developed some sort of crush on him, but then he realized that she had just been drawn in by Eames' apparent natural charm.

Tessa certainly made him _sound_ wonderful in her stories and Arthur was more than sure that he had the other man to thank for ensuring that his daughter devoured something that wasn't sugar.

All of this didn't explain the look that Ariadne kept giving him while they were opening up the shop for the morning, however.

Arthur gave in finally, turning towards her with his arms crossed over his chest. "Alright, what is it?"

"Oh, nothing," Ariadne said. Her tone was far too innocent, though, and all Arthur had to do was wait for the other shoe to drop, which it did the instant she began to talk again. "I was just wondering when you were going to actually meet this infamous Mr. Eames."

"Why do I have to meet him?" Arthur asked. A small furrow appeared on his brow. "And since when did he become infamous?"

"Since I referred to him as such," Ariadne said. "But, really now, Arthur, don't you think you should meet him?"

Arthur turned away so that he could finish pulling up the large blind that covered the shop window at night. "And I still don't see why it's such a necessity," he said.

"You aren't usually this dense, Arthur." Ariadne ignored his indignant, "Hey!" with a wave of her hand. "We're talking about the guy who's been looking after your daughter for the past week. Besides…" She trailed off with a waggle of her eyebrows. "I hear he's pretty damn handsome."

"What?" Arthur sputtered. "How does that even… Where did you hear that from?" He prayed to God that it hadn't come from his daughter.

"From all the women that come into the bakery from the diner," Ariadne sad, "and some of the men too. He's made quite a name for himself."

Arthur shook his head. "Alright, I'll meet with him some time soon to make sure I'm not leaving my daughter in the hands of a sociopath, but nothing more than that." He knew that his response had disappointed Ariadne before she even groaned.

"But Arthur," she said, "it's been so long! Don't you think it's time to—"

Arthur clenched his jaw, only vaguely aware of how the cord from the blind was cutting into the palm of his hand. "Do not," he ground out, "finish that sentence, Ariadne."

And of course Ariadne ignored him just like she always did. At least she made an effort to keep her voice gentle. "It's been six years, Arthur, _six_. I…I know how much you loved her—how much you still do—but she would have wanted you to move on with your life."

Arthur didn't even realize he had let go of the cord until he saw it swinging sharply away from him. "And what do you know about what she'd want?" he asked.

"A good share more than you think!" Ariadne shot back. She took a deep breath after that, forcing the sharpness from her tone. "She was my friend too, Arthur, and I know that what she'd want most in the world is to see you happy. Even if it's not with her."

Arthur scrubbed a hand across his face. "You say that like it's so easy," he said, "but what if something happens to this new person of mine? What if it's like…" His throat constricted around what he would have said next, but he could already hear it in his head—"What if I lose that person again?"

Ariadne, of course, knew exactly what he meant, her whole face crumpling with a sad sort of softness. "Oh, Arthur, it won't be like that," she said.

"How can you be so sure of that?" Arthur demanded.

Ariadne shrugged, holding out her hands in a gesture of supplication. "That's just it, Arthur," she said, "you can't know until you try."

And there it was, the most terrifying thought of all.

"Dad?"

Arthur whirled around to find Tessa standing there on the main floor of the shop, her eyes wide with worry that he had never meant to put there. He felt even worse when she began to shift from one foot to the other, fidgeting like she only did when she was nervous.

"Um, I just wanted to tell you I was going out." Her eyes darted rapidly between Arthur and Ariadne. "Unless you'd like for me to stay here?"

Arthur fought the urge to scrub a hand across his face, although he couldn't quite keep the weariness from his voice. "No, no, it's fine." He sighed when Tessa still stayed where she was, eyes fixed anxiously on him. "Really, Tessa, you don't need to worry about me." It was the job of the parent to take care of the child, after all, not the other way around.

He took a step forward, only to pause when he saw what his daughter was holding. "Is that your notebook?"

A dusting of pink came across Tessa's cheeks almost immediately. It was a moleskine, just like the one he used to copy down recipes or make notes. "Oh, yeah, I was just thinking of…" Tessa cleared her throat awkwardly. "I want to show Candace my writing."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up at that and he clearly wasn't the only one surprised. Ariadne was just a bit more vocal about it.

"_Really_?" She took a step forward, shaking her head when Tessa seemed inclined to curl in on herself. "No, no, I didn't meant that like… It's just surprising, you know? You hardly share that stuff with anyone."

"Yeah, I know, but…" Tessa fiddled with the moleskine in her hands. "Candace thought we might be able to write something together."

Arthur thought he was totally within bounds to blame his lack of response on being shell-shocked. Ariadne certainly made up for his delay anyway.

"Oh my God, really?" She dashed forward to let her hands rest on Tessa's shoulders. "You must really like this girl then." She beamed when Tessa only nodded with a small smile of her own. "Oh, that's brilliant! Don't you think so, Arthur?"

Arthur managed to find his voice once he realized that he now had two pairs of eyes fixed on him. "You are never going to let this one go, are you?" he said.

Ariadne widened her eyes in a show of faux innocence. "I have no idea what you mean, Arthur," she said. "Just because I was _right_ about—"

"Alright, alright," Arthur said. "I was wrong and you were right. We get it."

Ariadne leaned in towards Tessa. "Did you record that?" she asked. "Please tell me you recorded it. I don't think we'll ever hear it again otherwise."

Arthur shook his head. "You know, Ariadne, there is actually _work_ to be done still."

Ariadne stuck out her tongue at him. "Party pooper," she said. She leaned in to press a kiss to Tessa's cheek before moving over to start lifting the cloth covers off the tables.

"Do you guys need help?" Tessa asked. "Or should I just…" She trailed off when her father pulled her into a hug, burrowing into with an instinct that made Arthur smile.

"Go enjoy yourself," he said. "Just make sure to be back—"

"Be back by five," Tessa said. "I know, Dad." She popped up onto her toes so that he could kiss him on the cheek. "Love you!"

"Love you too," Arthur said. He waited until she had darted out of the shop to turn towards Ariadne, brow furrowed. "You are not allowed to try to hook me up with Eames."

"You say that now, but wait until…" Ariadne raised her hands in the air when Arthur scowled at her. "God, _fine_, Arthur. But you can't just keep throwing chances like this away. You could be happy again!"

"I _am_ happy," Arthur muttered as he headed back into the kitchens. And he wasn't lying about that either. He had a daughter who loved him and a thriving business that he truly enjoyed being a part of. It was what had gotten him through the last six years without someone by his side and it wouldn't fail him now.

* * *

><p>Eames had been worried, at first, when he couldn't hear the usual steady stream of babble coming from the booth that the girls had claimed as their own. His eyebrows had nearly shot up into his hairline, however, when Yusuf informed him of what they were doing.<p>

"_Writing_?" he said. "But Candace hasn't done that in ages!"

"Well she's doing it now," Yusuf said. "And it looks like she's having fun with it too." His eyes darted to one of the back burners. "Is that steak starting to burn or is it just me?"

Eames had turned around with a muttered curse then, although the food in question had thankfully been able to be salvaged. He didn't want his reputation to start tanking now that he had managed to drum up more than a few regulars.

It didn't stop him from peeking out at the girls in between lulls in service, however, and everything he saw seemed to confirm what Yusuf had said. There were what seemed like debates where Candace would make her point with slight gestures of her hands and Tessa's eyes would go bright with understanding before snatching the notebook back to start writing furiously in it.

It was enough to keep a smile on his face for nearly the whole of the workday.

By the time he glanced up at the clock and saw that it was already starting to tick by five, he moved over to the window to summon Candace up so he could ask what she'd like him to whip her up for dinner. He was surprised, however, to see Tessa still there in the booth as well. "Tessa? I thought you would have started heading home by now."

Tessa looked confused at first, but then her eyes widened with what almost seemed like horror. "Oh, no," she said.

Eames was about to assure her that everything was alright—she only lived across the street, after all—when the door to the diner was thrown open. More than a few heads whipped around to see who it was, yet Eames found himself only able to stare at the man who had just stumbled in.

It wasn't that Eames hadn't seen attractive people before. Being a globetrotter—if that's what one wanted to call it—had allowed him to be exposed to all sorts of different beauties, after all. But this man was gorgeous in a way that practically commanded people to stop and stare.

His hair had been slicked back with some of pomade, although a few dark, stray curls had managed to escape. He was slender, yet the sleeves of his button down had been rolled up to his elbows showing muscles that spoke of at least some sort of exercise. His brown eyes were familiar, however, for a reason that Eames couldn't place until the man began to speak.

"Tessa." He had moved forward now, a look of relief on his face, although it was tempered by just a bit of sternness. "I told you to be home by five."

"I'm sorry, Dad." And Tessa really did look repentant. "We just got so caught up in our work that I lost track of time."

Eames was still trying to grapple with the fact that this was Tessa's father, however. Now that they were side by side the similarities between them were more defined. Their eyes were most definitely the same, along with the fullness of their mouths. The lighter hair and more rounded features must have come from her mother; the woman that Candace had explained had died of cancer when Tessa was scarcely out of toddlerhood.

Arthur's face softened a little with a smile and was that a hint of dimples Eames saw? "It's alright," he said. "Just so long as I know you're okay."

And, wait a moment, _excuse me_?

"I can assure you, Mr. Moss," Eames said, "your daughter will always be safe here."

He didn't know whether to be intrigued or irritated that Arthur responded to the slight bite in his tone with only a slight lift of his eyebrows. "And I can assure _you_, Mr. Eames, that I will still worry about my daughter regardless. I'm sure that, as a father yourself, you can understand."

Damn, the man had him caught there. "Yes, I can," Eames grumbled. "Next time I'll have her call you when she's running late."

"Or I can just head over to the bakery," Candace piped up. "I still haven't been over here yet."

Eames had to busy himself with flipping over a burger to hide his grin. Chip off the old block, his girl was.

"Oh, that's right!" Tessa said. She leaned across the table conspiratorially. "And if we're really good then Dad will let us hang out in the back room and snag some samples."

Eames half expected Arthur to start twitching at such a suggestion. The man looked just as pristine as the outside of his shop, clearly the type who would abhor having such distractions in his kitchen.

He nearly choked, however, when Arthur grinned, putting his dimples on full display. "True," he said, "but if you're really good then Ariadne will show you how to knit your own Hogwarts scarf."

It was impossible to fight back the warmth that Eames felt swelling up within him when he saw how delighted his daughter was at that news. "Think you can manage to behave for once, Candace?" he teased.

"For a Hogwarts scarf?" Candace tossed back. "For that I'd _clean_."

Eames tossed his head back to laugh at that before pointing at Arthur with his spatula. "Make sure to hold her to that," he told the other man.

"I'll try to," Arthur said. And there was something warm in his eyes that made Eames' stomach want to flip over.

Arthur left with Tessa in tow not long after, having worked out a time when Candace would be able to come over.

Yusuf took that opportunity to slide up to the window, eyebrows raised. "Well wasn't he just lovely?" he said. "Not my type, of course, but—"

"Can it, Yusuf," Eames muttered.

Yusuf's laughter was as a sure a sign as any, though, that he was already doomed.


End file.
